


Home

by BadWolf303



Series: When Larry Met Freddy [13]
Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:18:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolf303/pseuds/BadWolf303
Summary: Freddy can feel his ears turning pink, but he knows this could be, probably will be, his only chance. So he takes a deep breath and sucks it up. "I wanna take you somewhere that means a lot to me. But it's really stupid. That okay?"





	Home

The first thing Freddy sees when he opens his eyes is Larry. He doesn't even check to see what time it is, doesn't really care. Larry's got one arm under the pillow and one casually draped over Freddy's waist, and it's kind of stuffy in his shit little apartment, but Freddy scoots closer into the warmth radiating off of Larry anyway.

Larry's still sleeping, and Freddy kinda likes that. He likes that he can just...just lay here and see Larry's face all smooth and calm, without worry or anger or any of the other fucking shit they all pick up from being cops and crooks and outcasts. He looks younger, not that Freddy gives a fuck how old Larry is, but still, he kinda likes that, too. Likes that he gets to see Larry this way. Likes that Larry trusts him enough now to keep sleeping.

Freddy realizes with a jolt that they both slept through the night. That there wasn't a bloody nightmare forcing him awake, and into Larry's waiting arms. There wasn't any fear last night, for the first time in what feels like for-fucking-ever, just... just warmth and Larry, and that makes Freddy snuggle in even closer, because goddamn, he's happy. Goddamn, he's loved.

A guy could get used to waking up like this.

Freddy figures he probably already has.

Which kills the buzz of a happy, peaceful morning, really. Because Freddy doesn't ever fucking get happy. He doesn't ever fucking get peaceful. What Freddy gets is thrown out of his home, what Freddy gets is fists to his face, what Freddy gets is the threat of a heist that's twenty-four fucking hours away.

He grabs at Larry's bicep, pressing his body into Larry's, pushing his face into Larry's neck and breathing him in, because what if he's getting used to this and it's the last morning they'll ever get it? What if tomorrow they wake up, nervous and sweaty, and get ready for a heist that ends all of this--fucking ends one or the other or the both of them--fucking ends with jail or blood or....

"Fuck," Freddy whispers. Larry stirs but doesn't wake, and Freddy smooths the wrinkles back out of Larry's face. "Shh," Freddy says. "You keep sleeping. Just like that."

Freddy presses his lips to Larry's forehead. This could be the last morning they ever have this. This could be the last day they ever spend together--just the two of them, loving and fucking and existing together, without any of the other shit. Freddy is all too aware, has been since the fucking start, that they could lose this so fucking easily, probably will lose this too fucking easily, and just because he made it through the night without nightmares doesn't mean those dreams won't come true.

He has twenty-four hours left to just...just be with Larry. And he needs them to be perfect.

He looks at the clock. It's a little after nine. He reaches out to trace Larry's calm, smooth features, running his fingers along cheeks and chin and nose. He wants to remember this forever. Wants to commit every-fucking-thing about Larry to memory.

Larry starts to wake, and Freddy leans up to whisper into his ear. "Larry? I have an idea."

Larry grumbles as he stretches, his eyes still closed. "You're insatiable."

Freddy giggles, he can't help it, which puts a smile on Larry's face even if he's yet to open his eyes. "Not that," Freddy says. "Well, not yet. Ask me again later. Besides, your cock might still need the rest, old man."

"Watch your mouth. The fuck do you want, then? I'm sleeping."

"I wanna do something special with you today," Freddy says, then shakes his head because he realizes that sounds stupid. "Well, it's not really special. I mean, I wanna do it with you, but it's kinda lame. I mean not to me, but I think you'll think it's lame."

Larry opens his eyes and reaches out to brush back Freddy's unruly morning hair. "What are you yammering on about, baby?"

Freddy sighs. He can feel his ears turning pink, and part of him wants to say fuck it, never mind but he knows this could be, probably will be, his only chance. So he takes a deep breath and sucks it up. "I wanna take you somewhere that means a lot to me. But it's really stupid. That okay?"

Larry blinks his eyes slowly, as if he's still waking up, and Freddy kinda loves the lazy look of it all. Larry's...well, Freddy wouldn't call him uptight, but he wouldn't call him easy going, either; it's just the price he figures Larry pays, looking over his shoulder so fucking often. He doesn't seem so worried just now, when it's just the two of them, and Freddy fucking loves it.

He's starting to believe that Larry does love him, that Larry has forgiven him. Things like this, lazy smiles first thing in the morning, drive those points home.

"Let me take you for breakfast first?" Larry says.

"You're gonna make me fat, man."

"You could stand a little meat on those bones, Stretch."

Freddy giggles, and Larry wraps his arms around Freddy's admittedly skinny little body and pulls him down on top of Larry's much bulkier form. Larry leans up for a kiss, and Freddy can't help but get lost in it.

When they pull away, Freddy is both too happy and too scared. He wants mornings like this forever. "Come on," he says. "I really wanna do this."

Larry hesitates, looking in Freddy's eyes, his brow furrowed.

"Please," Freddy says.

Larry nods. "Whatever you want, Freddo."

He doubts Larry has any idea Freddy's gonna ask him to come with him to a comic shop, but Larry takes it in stride, anyway. Freddy's only been to this one a small handful of times, but he likes it all the same. It's small, has a back issue collection that turns Freddy on, and the guy who owns the place puts shit aside for Freddy each week, anyway, even if Freddy won't give him a name to start a pull, even if Freddy's been anything but consistent about when he walks in.

It's always been like that, for Freddy. The local shop by his childhood house was more home than home was, but when his dad threw him out he didn't stay in one place long enough to find another new shop to stake claim. Still, no matter if he went in once, or every week for a month, or once every four months, even if he changed comic shops more than he probably changed his underwear, they all felt the same. Like home, which is a ridiculous thing to say, since Freddy never cared for home, Freddy never gave a fuck about what that all meant, but this was always different.

Just like being with Larry is different. Freddy's images of home don't exactly fit in with the feelings he gets from a comic shop, and Freddy's images of relationships don't exactly fit in with Larry.

He doesn't know how to explain that to Larry, not really. Doesn't know how to say, "I've been fucked and used but never loved, never knew it could be different, and you've given that to me." He doesn't know how to explain, "I had a house but never a home, I had a mom and pop but never a family, and now I just want you to be in my world, I want you here with my heroes, even if it's just for twenty-four hours."

Larry looks exceptionally out of place, and Freddy kinda loves that, too, because everyone who ever walks into a comic shop is out of place somewhere. There's a little lanky kid at the rack by the front door who accidentally meets Larry's gaze, and Freddy has never seen anyone scatter so quickly.

"You're scaring people, man," Freddy says with a giggle.

Larry looks offended. "I didn't fucking do anything!"

Freddy just keeps giggling.

He tugs Larry over to the Marvel section of the comics. It's not that he's anti-DC (Freddy doesn't fucking discriminate, okay?) but the guys from Marvel always knew how to make a little lonely queer kid feel less alone and more capable of greatness, even if he's never actually found that greatness. He pulls a couple issues off the rack, holds them out to show Larry.

"These guys are great," he says. "Peter Parker? Little nobody who gets to be the superhero. Steve Rogers? Little guy who gets to be the superhero."

He hands them both to Larry, who looks kinda lost but takes them anyway. Freddy grabs a couple more. "These guys? They're the X-Men. The outcasts who protect each other and--"

"Get to be the heroes?" Larry finishes.

Freddy just nods. "Look, I know you probably think this shit is ridiculous. Like I'm just...just some stupid kid about all this, but... I don't know, man, I love it here. I love this stupid shit. And I..." He swallows, tries to be brave, because this could be the last day he ever gets to do it. "And I love you, Larry. I guess I just kinda wanted to share that with you."

Larry looks at the comics in his hands. "Why?" he asks.

Because I might not ever get the chance to. Because this whole thing started because I had to hide who I was from you, and I never wanna do that again, and I love you and want you to know that.

Freddy doesn't say any of that. He shrugs. "Because I want to."

"Who's this one?" Larry asks as he flips through the pages.

"That's Wolverine."

"He looks like an asshole."

Freddy giggles. "He kinda reminds me of you," he says, and when Larry gives him a look, Freddy flips to a page and points to a panel of Wolverine in action. "He's kind of one of those broody tough guys who's totally willing to use deadly force to get shit done."

"So he's a villain."

The assumption catches Freddy by surprise. "What? No, man, he's a fan favorite. He's a hero."

Larry gets really still and really quiet, and when he looks at Freddy, well....Freddy can't help the blush that spreads up his neck and to his cheeks. "I remind you of a hero? I ain't no hero, kid."

Freddy shrugs and looks away. They might only have one day left, but still...some things are too hard to say. Some things Freddy still doesn't think he'll ever be able to explain.

Freddy gets a little lost in the comics, especially when the shop owner comes over and starts discussing Spiderman, and how the villain in the current story line sucks, but everyone keeps reading to find out what happens in the life of Peter Parker, anyway.

Larry doesn't really stand a chance in the conversation, but he stays by Freddy's side anyway, as if he actually does give a fuck about everyone's favorite friendly neighborhood Spiderman--but maybe it's just because he gives a fuck about Freddy that he tries to follow, that he nods in all the right places, that he even takes the time to ask, "Wait, the spider guy is an avenger, too?" Which sets the shop owner off into a tangent about the current Avengers story line, too.

But eventually, lingering just turns into hesitating, because the conversation's died down, and Freddy has nothing left to really look at, and he has a stack full of comics in his hands he should probably just fucking buy and stop wasting the shop owner's time. It's just...well...he doesn't want to go. Doesn't want to leave the security of the comic shop, and these superheros, doesn't want to give up having this and Larry all at once.

He reaches into his pocket to start counting his change--he's usually low on cash, they don't really pay this undercover rat all that much--and he doesn't think he's got enough for all of them, but suddenly Larry's yanking the issues from Freddy's hands. "Hey!"

"Put your chump change back. I got this," Larry says, and he struts over to the counter like he fucking owns the place, like he's a regular fixture in a shop like this.

Freddy fucking loves it. When Larry hands him the bag, Freddy nearly cries. "What's wrong? I do something wrong?" Larry asks.

"No one's ever bought me comics before," Freddy says, and then immediately shakes his head, because that sounded so fucking stupid. "I just...thanks, man."

Larry winks. "Thought I was your sugar daddy?"

It's a joke, but Freddy's not laughing. "You're a fucking lot more than that."

Larry pulls Freddy closer, presses a kiss right on the top of Freddy's head, in the middle of the comic shop, where anyone can see them, as if they've got nothin' to hide, as if they're in this together, as if they're just a normal couple out for a day buying comics. "Take me home?" Freddy finds himself asking.

Larry doesn't even hesitate. "You've got it."


End file.
